


this feeling you found

by achilleees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn Video, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oberyn finds the DVD tucked between pages 112 and 113 of a book of Myrish poetry as he’s browsing Cersei’s bookshelf, waiting for her to get out of class. He considers it for a moment, then pockets it – Cersei’s MacBook Air doesn’t have a CD drive, he rationalizes, so what use does she have for it?</p>
<p>And he’s curious. It’s porn, right? It has to be. And Cersei says she doesn’t watch porn, so…</p>
<p>He does feel a little guilty, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this feeling you found

**Author's Note:**

> since i already posted another cersei-fic tonight, the floodgates are officially open and i'm gonna start publishing the other ones i've finished. this being one of them. 
> 
> warning: this is literally 13K of oberyn being an emo kid with a twincest kink. you might want to turn around now if that doesn't interest you.
> 
> ACTUAL WARNING: it's a pretty unhealthy relationship. oberyn calls cersei a bitch at one point, cersei has a tendency to hit him when she's mad. these kids are not role models in terms of communication and healthy dynamics. be aware.
> 
> i'm on tumblr [here](http://achilleees.tumblr.com/) but i don't actually post too much game of thrones stuff fyi. i write a lot (A LOT) of fluffy&bantery&vaguely-ooc cersei-centric fics (mostly aus and canon divergent robert's rebellion fics) so if you want to request anything, i'm aaaalways open to suggestions.
> 
> title from "brothers and sisters" by coldplay.

Oberyn finds the DVD tucked between pages 112 and 113 of a book of Myrish poetry as he’s browsing Cersei’s bookshelf, waiting for her to get out of class. He considers it for a moment, then pockets it – Cersei’s MacBook Air doesn’t have a CD drive, he rationalizes, so what use does she have for it?

And he’s curious. It’s porn, right? It has to be. And Cersei says she doesn’t watch porn, so…

He does feel a little guilty, though.

 

He forgets about the DVD for a few days, until he’s going through his pockets looking for his earbuds and rediscovers it. He bites his lip for a moment, looking towards the door – no one is home, and he knows for a fact Cersei isn’t coming over because she has a paper due tomorrow, so he isn’t sure what prompts him to lock the door.

He opens his laptop and slips the CD inside, plugging in the earbuds in case. The Windows Media Player prompt comes up, and he clicks it, shifting over to lie on his side as he waits for the video to start.

“I just don’t think this is a good idea,” Cersei’s voice filters in through the earbuds, sounding flat and displeased. In the video, she’s lying in the same position as Oberyn: lounging on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. She’s wearing a lingerie set Oberyn’s never seen before, all red satin and lace, breasts hitched up into even more tempting swells of soft, inviting skin.

He so knew it.

She looks a little different, though, and he pauses the video, trying to pinpoint what caught his eye. Maybe just that she’s younger by two or three years?

Then he realizes – she’s not wearing makeup, or not much, at least, just a slight smudge of mascara to make her green eyes pop.

For some reason, this bothers him. Has he ever seen her out of makeup before?

He starts the video back up, and a male voice comes on from behind the camera. “Because someone might find it?” It’s a rich, velvety voice, and it’s familiar, but Oberyn can’t work out who it belongs to. He doesn’t try very hard – he’ll see in a moment, he’s sure.

“Yes,” Cersei says, and she rolls onto her stomach, glaring over the camera. Her breasts threaten to spill free of their confines. “I shouldn’t need to tell you how that could _completely_ ruin our lives.”

Cersei is so dramatic, Oberyn thinks fondly, but he has to wonder. A professor, maybe?

“So we won’t let anyone find it,” the man says, utterly careless. Cersei has a thing for reckless men, Oberyn knows well.

“Wow, that’s an airtight plan, champ,” Cersei says, rolling her eyes. “Gee, why didn’t I think of that?”

“So we’ll destroy the film after,” the man says. “It’s the act of doing it that gets me hot, I doubt I’ll ever watch it again. C’mon, Cerse – you know what? I’ll give the only copy to you, so you can do with it what you want. If you wanna break it, you’ll be able to.”

Oberyn frowns. Cersei doesn’t let anyone call her by a nickname. He silently wills the on-screen Cersei to speak up against it, or tell the guy she doesn’t trust him and that he’s full of shit.

Cersei purses her lips. “Okay…” she says, and smiles.

“Besides, it’s getting you hot,” the man says, a confident smirk audible in his voice. “I know you.” His voice drops, going husky. “Tell me how wet you are right now.”

“I’m…” Cersei blushes a little. It’s a gorgeous look on her, and again, one Oberyn has never seen. Cersei is utterly, delightfully shameless in bed.

This man must have taught her that, Oberyn thinks, stomach twisting.

“You know how wet I am,” she pouts. “Come feel for yourself.”

The man hesitates. “I want to see you touch yourself,” he coaxes, but he shifts audibly, moving forward a bit, his arm and part of his shoulder now coming into the view.

Cersei rolls over onto her back, strewn out on the pillows, Aphrodite in the flesh. She lets her legs fall apart. “Jaime,” she says, half a whisper, half a moan.

Jaime Lannister moves into the frame.

Oberyn’s jaw drops, very slowly.

 

He watches, stunned, as Jaime crawls over her, kisses her everywhere, tears the satin from her body so that they are shreds and scraps in his hands. He cannot look away as Jaime draws whimpers and cries from Cersei that he recognizes all too well, greedily drinks the sounds from her mouth, devours her cunt with his tongue.

Jaime touches Cersei’s body with total confidence, like he knows her and loves her and owns her, knowing exactly how and where to touch to make her shudder herself to satiation for him. Only after he has brought her to screaming completion twice does he strip off his clothes and – shooting a wicked grin at the camera – sink into her heat with a throaty moan.

Bare. No condom. No _discussion_ of using a condom. Oberyn doesn’t mind using condoms every time, because Cersei may have an IUD but it’s been fewer than six months since each of them last had other partners, so it seems only right to be careful. Cersei is very careful. Cersei is so cautious.

Cersei is moaning for her brother’s cock like a whore.

They’re lovely together, moving in perfect sync, mirror images in tawny gold and poisonous green. Jaime is Cersei in ideal masculine form, and it is never more apparent than when he’s balls deep inside her, fucking her so hard the bed shakes.

Oberyn closes his eyes for a moment, but the lewd slapping sounds and whimpers are just as affecting as the visual, and he can’t help but watch, enraptured, as Cersei claws at Jaime’s back and moves with him as though they are one being.

“I love you!” Cersei cries, and Jaime snarls his possessive glee and covers her mouth with his, kissing her like he is mad for it, for her, for them. But against his lips, she moans it – “I love you, I love you, _I love you_ , Jaime, I –”

“Cersei, Cersei,” Jaime groans. “My sweet sister, mine, you’re mine.”

“Yours, always, I’m yours!” she cries out, and she shakes against him, clutching him close as he reaches his own peak, spilling inside her in long, shuddering waves.

They are still, panting, breathing as one. She strokes his hair.

“Oh, sweet Cersei,” Jaime finally slurs, and he shifts his weight, drawing another whimper from her. He smiles, then, soft in the way that only Cersei makes him. “I love you, I’m yours, you know I am.”

“Of course I know that,” Cersei says, rolling her eyes. “You’re my Jaime, how could I not?”

Oberyn slams his hand down on the spacebar, pausing the video. The resolution isn’t great, and their smiles are blurred, but the devotion is clear nonetheless.

He doesn’t even get his pants all the way unzipped before he’s coming, violently, so hard his vision whites out.

 

There’s more of the video than that. They fuck against the wall, rattling the picture frames. A particularly fetching one of two gap-toothed blond twins grinning in their bathing suits falls loose and hits the ground, but they don’t notice, too caught up in each other.

Then he fucks her on her arms and knees, rough and almost feral, biting at the back of her neck as she screams into a pillow for him. Jaime grabs her hand and weaves his fingers through it, breathing words of worship and mad, consuming love down her spine as he comes.

They curl together after, sated and sticky. Cersei must be sore, the way she’s moving, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She touches his face and opens her mouth, then shakes her head and kisses him instead.

“I am amazing,” Jaime says.

“Huh?” She tilts her head to the side in a gesture that Oberyn recognizes, but finds completely alien in that moment.

“That’s what you were going to say, and I was agreeing,” Jaime says.

She rolls her eyes and smacks him lightly – and _that_ , Oberyn has experienced too many times to count. “Shithead,” Cersei says. “I – oh!” The camera makes a beeping sound and she glances over, shocked. “I forgot that was on.”

“Running low on battery, I guess,” Jaime says, uncoiling from the bed and walking back over, feline and arrogant. He steps out of view to fiddle with the camera.

Cersei rolls back onto her side, and now her hair is disheveled and her makeup is smeared over her eyes, sticky fluids drying on her skin, bruises and bite marks scattered across her belly and breasts. She’s fucking lovely. She’s everything.

“Jaime,” she says. “I –“

And that’s when the video ends.

 

Oberyn watches it four times in a row, jerking his cock until he’s too sore and sensitive to touch, but still the desire burns in him. Finally he slams his laptop shut, collapsing onto his back and throwing an arm over his face.

He knows Cersei has had partners before him. He’s not a jealous man. Normally an amateur porn video with another man would be lovely – fuck, normally he’d suggest a threesome to her after watching it.

But this is Jaime.

Jaime, who Cersei loves more than life itself. The only person who can make her smile no matter how angry she is, who she loves unconditionally, who Cersei trusts completely and totally and without question.

Oberyn rolls onto his belly and drags a pillow over his head. “Fuck,” he moans into it, and he’s already hard again, though even the pressure of the mattress hurts.

He falls asleep like that, exhausted and heartsick.

 

There’s a knock on the door, some hours later. “You home?” Nym calls, and turns the handle, finding it locked. “Got company?”

“No,” Oberyn says, and he climbs out of bed and does up his jeans before opening the door.

“Whoa,” she says, looking from his messy hair to his baleful frown to the scattered tissues that didn’t quite make it to the trash can. She wrinkles her nose at the smell. “Dude, you have a girlfriend, you know.”

“I’m having a crisis,” he says, and pushes past her to lock himself in the bathroom for the world’s longest shower.

“That’s an understatement!” she calls, and he can hear her opening the windows in his room.

He bangs his head against the shower wall.

 

Oberyn doesn’t see Cersei that night, but she finds him in the Sci Li atrium the next morning, dropping next to him at the table and sliding a canned coffee over to him. “Ugh, remember that Margaery bitch in my ConLaw class? Well, she… Are you okay?”

He looks up at her. “Fine,” he says.

“Okay, because you look a little like you’re going to throw up,” she says, and eyes him warily, scooting away. “You’re feeling alright?”

“Fine,” he says again, attempting a smile. “You were saying?”

Cersei scrutinizes him for another minute, then shrugs. “So she was being an annoying bitch as usual, babbling on about Gitmo, and the professor was lapping it up as always, so then I – mmph!” Her eyes fly open as he leans over suddenly and kisses her, hungry and desperate.

She shoves him off, eyes sparking. “What the hell was that?” she hisses, looking around.

Oberyn collapses back into his chair. “I,” he says, but nothing more comes out.

She narrows her eyes.

If he were Jaime, would she have let him kiss her? Oberyn gives a wry laugh. If he were Jaime, she probably would have let him throw her over the table and fuck her then and there.

“You’re being weird,” she says, finally. “And I’m going to be late. Sort your shit out, Martell.”

He wishes he could.

 

Cersei can never stay mad at him for long, though. She texts for him to come over that night, making no mention of the morning.

He used to enjoy this, thinking of it as a testament to how much she must like him, but now it depresses him.

Because she can’t stay mad at Jaime either. And that’s what he is, isn’t he? A surrogate Jaime. Arrogant and sarcastic and hot-tempered, protective and passionate and – though this is a recent discovery – easily inflamed to bouts of relentless lust, only truly alive when worshiping her body with hands and tongue and cock.

A sick thought hits him as he comes up to her door. A surrogate Jaime, yes, but even worse, a _temporary_ one. As soon as she graduates, she’ll join Jaime in King’s Landing, he’s sure of it. Share his apartment and fuck him every night after football practice, attend every one of his games and cheer from the sidelines with his come still leaking from her pussy. Fuck, who’s to say she doesn’t do that now? Every time she goes up for a weekend to visit her brother.

She does, doesn’t she? Spends those long weekends having orgasms wrung from her by those clever, large hands, whispering devotion against his lips until she comes back and allows Oberyn to pleasure her while she waits for her real life to begin.

In that moment, he _hates_ Jaime Lannister, hates his polished good looks, his wicked smile. His broad shoulders and his talent and his charm and his wit and his blond hair and his green, green eyes.

And in that moment, his cock is so hard in his pants that he’s a little afraid he’s going to come untouched right there, standing outside her door.

He tucks it under his belt and knocks.

 

Cersei greets him at the door with a pretty smile, shorter than normal out of her heels, but still wearing full makeup, he notices. “Come in,” she says. “Have you eaten? There’s leftovers.”

“I’m fine,” he says, following her back to the couch and shedding his shoes. He sits down and she snuggles into him the way she likes, back to his chest, her head on his shoulder, his arms looped around her waist.

He closes his eyes and imagines Jaime here in his place. He bets they would fit together better, those golden twins.

“Oh,” she purrs, shifting against him, his hard cock pressing against her back. “Can you wait? I want to see how the movie ends.”

“I can wait,” he murmurs, and kisses her neck.

He misses most of the movie, vaguely aware of some drama between the main character and her little sister, dark thoughts churning in his stomach like poison. This isn’t who he is – Oberyn isn’t the sort of man who wallows in bitterness and angst, and he’s also not the sort of man who jacks off thinking about his girlfriend and her brother getting it on, except apparently that’s exactly who he is.

Her phone rings, stirring his attention. “Oh,” she says, checking it. “It’s Jaime. Here, you keep watching, I’ll be right back.” She slips out of his arms and out of the room, and he hates Jaime Lannister, he hates him, he _hates him_.

He wonders what they’re talking about. If her pussy is getting wet just hearing his voice. If they’re planning their next rendezvous right now, high on the knowledge that Oberyn is in the next room and blissfully unaware.

Or if they don’t even care that he is. If the very thought of Oberyn never crosses her mind when she talks to Jaime, if he isn’t consequential enough for Jaime to remember his existence.

He hates them both.

She takes so long talking that the movie ends, and Oberyn flips channels aimlessly, finally landing on some show about models she’s made him watch before.

She comes back. “Oh, I’ve seen this episode,” she says, but she sits down and curls into him anyway.

Oberyn doesn’t wrap his arms around her. “What did Jaime want?” he asks.

“Nothing really,” she says. “Just finalizing our plans for the bye week. Making sure I was still coming up. I –“ She shrieks a little as he twists suddenly, rolling over her and pinning her to the couch below him. “Oberyn?”

“I need you,” he says, guttural and hoarse, the only honest thing he’s said to her all day. Still more honest than she’s ever been since the day they met, he thinks.

“What, now?” Cersei tries to push herself up, but he catches her in a kiss so consuming it makes her melt back into the cushions. “Oberyn,” she says, already breathing heavily, eyes bright. “At least let’s go to the bedroom…”

He kisses her again, to bottle up the question he feels dangling on his lips – Would you fuck Jaime on the couch? “Please, Cersei,” he says. “Cersei, I need you.” He grinds against her, feeling feverish, out of control.

She shivers at the sound of her name, the way she always does in moments like this when his accent comes thick and curling. _Take that, Lannister_ , Oberyn thinks savagely. He’s willing to bet Cersei doesn’t react like that when Jaime says her name.

“I… But what if Melara or Jeyne comes back? Oberyn…” she whispers.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, for me.” He buries his face in her neck, panting into her collarbone. For Jaime, she keeps a DVD of their incestuous tryst even though she can’t play CDs on her computer. For Oberyn, the least she could do is…

He doesn’t know how he’ll react if she says no.

“Okay,” she says, and her fingers tremble as she stretches for her purse and pulls out a condom. “Okay, like this, just like this, do it.”

He shoves down his jeans just enough to free his cock, and she wriggles out of her thong, her skirt sliding up her hips. He rolls on the condom and then slides inside her, like coming home. He exhales.

He thinks he’s whispering her name, but he’s so overwhelmed he can’t be sure if he’s saying it aloud or if it’s just echoing in his head, a prayer, a condemnation. He might be crying.

Fuck, he hopes he isn’t.

He fucks her desperately, his thrusts out of rhythm, but they’re deep and strong and she cries out and clutches him close, her gorgeous thick hair spilling over the couch arm in a golden waterfall.

She claws at his back when she comes, making high, hitched noises as he rubs his thumb over her clit and drags her orgasm out, hard and long and painfully sweet. And he comes immediately after, hips jerking, fingers gripping her hips and holding her against him, needy like he has never been, not for her, not for anyone.

She touches his face as he comes back to himself, trying to tip it up to see him, but he shakes his head and stays buried in the crook of her neck. He can’t look at her right now. He doesn’t want to see her face. Doesn’t want to wonder how different she would look if it were Jaime between her legs right now, shaking with need for her.

“Oberyn,” she says, and he breathes hard and squeezes his eyes shut, mouthing soundless words into her collarbone.

He hopes she thinks it’s sweat, dripping down onto her skin.

 

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” Oberyn says, dully. He slips the earbuds out of his ears and hits the spacebar.

_I love you, I love you, Jaime, I –_

Tyene peaks her head inside.“Hey,” she says softly. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” She comes and sits on the edge of his bed. He shuts his computer.

“Yeah, it’s been a weird couple of days,” he says, smiling, or trying to.

“Nym says you’re having a crisis,” Tyene says. She tugs him over, and he settles his head in her lap, letting her stroke his hair.

Cersei loves to do this. He thinks she might have a hair fetish.

He bets Jaime Lannister’s hair is softer than his.

_Yours, always, I’m yours!_

 “Yep,” he says.

“Wanna talk?” she says.

“Nope.”

She sighs. “Cersei asked me today if I knew what was going on with you,” she says, in the tone of someone who is changing the subject, even though she isn’t.

“Did she?” Oberyn frowns.

Cersei and his sisters don’t really get along. She thinks they’re manipulative, condescending bitches who use their bodies to get their way with men. They think she’s a manipulative, condescending bitch who uses her body to get her way with men.

“Yeah, she must be really worried, to be willing to talk to me,” Tyene says. She cards a little deeper into his hair with her fingers, massaging his scalp. “I’m really worried.”

_You’re my Jaime, how could I not_?

“It’s been a few days, Ty,” Oberyn says, rolling his eyes. “I’m still showering, eating, fucking and going to class. Clearly it can’t be that big a deal.”

“Yeah, but,” she says, “normally you address your problems head on. That’s what you taught us, right? Don’t just let things fester. Fix your own issues.”

He shrugs. “Some issues are beyond fixing, I guess.”

“And that’s when you talk about them,” she says, getting annoyed. “It doesn’t have to be with me. Just… talk to someone?”

Oberyn tries to imagine it. Sitting with Arthur Dayne, or Doran, or Daemon, and saying, _Cersei is cheating on me with her brother_. Or worse, _Cersei is cheating on her brother with me_.

“Yeah,” he says, to get her off his back. “Maybe I will.”

Tyene doesn’t believe him, though. She tugs his hair. “You should! You’re being kind of a dumbass, Oberyn. If normal-you saw yourself like this, you would be infuriated.”

“Probably,” Oberyn admits.

She sighs, and resumes stroking his hair. “Does it have to do with Cersei?” Something must cross his face, because she adds darkly, “Do I have to cut a bitch?”

It sounds hilarious coming in Tyene’s soft, sweet lilt, and he smiles a little. “No,” he says. “No, Tyene, you do not have to ‘cut a bitch.’”

“But it does have to do with Cersei?” she asks.

Oberyn shrugs.

“Hm,” Tyene says, eyes narrowing.

He sighs.

 

Oberyn is reaching up to knock on the door when it opens, and he jerks back just as Melara gives a yelp of shock.

“Oh shit, you scared me,” Melara says. She purses her lips at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says.

“She’s in her room,” Jeyne says, slipping on her shoes.

“Great,” he says, moving past them.

Jeyne starts to go, but Melara grabs his arm before he can shut the door behind them. “Whatever shit you’re going through right now, Martell, you’re freaking her out. Fix it.”

“Working on it,” he grunts, and he’ll take this bullshit from Tyene but absolutely not from Melara Hetherspoon.

“Seriously!” she insists, shaking his arm. “This isn’t cute.”

He bares his teeth at her, and Jeyne shrinks back behind Melara, realizing that it isn’t a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

Melara huffs, but she and Jeyne leave. He shuts the door and presses his forehead to it for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath and goes to Cersei’s room.

Oberyn raps on the door with his knuckles, and she says, “Come in,” in a sort of smoky voice that he recognizes.

He opens the door, and Cersei is on her bed, in that _pose_ , lying on her side and holding herself up on her arm. Her lingerie is gold and black, and very sheer.

“You look better in red,” he says.

Her hesitant smile fades. “Oh,” she says. “Okay.” Normally she would snap back at him, but she’s been tentative with him recently, like she’s not sure what will make him crack. In a sick way, he’s enjoyed it.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Um…”

“You look beautiful,” he says, because she does, and he crosses the room to her, bending over her and kissing her, soft but hungry.

Her smile reappears, weaker than before but genuine. “Thank you,” she says. She curls her legs around his waist, dragging him down on top of her. Gasps as he trails biting kisses down her belly. “Feels good,” she murmurs.

She’s never this openly responsive – for _you_ , at least, some insidious part of his brain whispers, and he tells it to shut up – and he likes it, likes hearing her.

He grinds against her, cock already hard against her cunt, pressed against her right where he would slip inside without the layers of clothing in the way. He kisses her again.

“What do you want from me?” she murmurs against his lips. She trails her hands down his back, so gentle it makes his skin crawl. “What can I do? Tell me.”

He looks up at her. And in a moment of madness, he says –

(Or is it madness? It feels like the only clear thought he’s had in a week. He hasn’t been in his right fucking mind, that’s for sure).

“Call me Jaime.”

There’s a second of absolute stillness.

Then she snarls, shoving him off with a force that sends him sprawling. “How did you –?” She looks to her phone first, which – ohh, that’s why she was so protective of it. Makes sense. Then she connects the dots and grabs for the book of poetry, sending books scattering to the floor as she tears it off the shelf. She flips to the page, then turns the book over and shakes it.

Nothing, of course. Oberyn isn’t sure what she expects.

“Fuck you – fuck you!” she shrieks. “You had no right to – How dare you, how _could_ you?” She lashes out at him, trying to strike him, but he beats off her hands.

“No, fuck you,” he yells back, and finally all the frustration and rage and heartbreak has an outlet, and it feels good. “How the fuck could you look me in the eye and ask me to break things off with Ellaria when you were –”

“That’s different,” she says, and abruptly turns icy cold, turning away, her rage settling into a preternatural stillness. “I should have guessed,” she says, as if to herself. “I should have known.”

Oberyn scowls, feeling wrong-footed, like he’s guilty of something, and he hates that. He’s not guilty of anything. “The whole time, you –”

“You don’t understand, you don’t know,” she cries out. “You couldn’t – He’s my brother, he’s –”

“Bitch, I’m not the one who needs to be reminded of that,” he says.

She shakes with rage, face going white. “Get out,” she says. “Get out, get out!” She shoves him again.

“Believe me, I’m fucking gone,” he says, and he doesn’t look back as he storms out.

 

But he hears her coming right when he gets to the door, and braces himself for another shove or scratch or whatever. Except she grabs him instead, hands clutching.

She buckles to her knees, and Oberyn stares. “Please,” she says, and she’s crying. He’s never seen her cry. “Please, don’t tell anyone, _please_ , don’t do that to me. You can’t tell anyone, _please_!”

She kneels before him, grasping him like a supplicant, weeping, tragic and beautiful. It’s half manipulation, he’s sure of it – seeking the protection of his easily swayed male ego – and half very real, very visceral terror.

“I won’t,” he promises, and he can’t help it, he kneels down and takes her into his arms. Her tears soak through his shirt in seconds. “I won’t, Cersei, believe me, trust me, I wouldn’t.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, and his own throat aches to hear it. “Thank you.”

 

Oberyn walks home in a daze, hands in his pockets, wishing absently for a cigarette.

He left her crying on the couch, curled up, still wearing that goddamned lingerie. So beautiful it kills him.

“Oberyn!” Tyene says when he walks in the door, leaning over the back of the couch and grinning.

“Oberyn?” Nym says softly.

He ignores them, keeps walking. Locks the door behind him and collapses face down on his bed. Covers his face with a pillow and hates, hates, _hates_ Cersei Lannister.

 

The insistent vibrating of his phone wakes him hours later, and he growls and grabs for it, checking the caller ID. Unknown.

“What?” he snaps into it.

“Come outside,” a male voice responds, and this time he recognizes it instantly. “Bring the DVD.”

Oberyn does, because why the fuck not?

Jaime’s there, leaning against the hood of his Porsche, head angled down as if that will make him blend in any better. What a fucking tool.

“Well?” Oberyn says.

“Get in,” Jaime says.

They drive outside of town a ways, enough that Oberyn is looking around wondering where Jaime is planning to bury his body, when they pull up outside a cute little villa.

“Huh,” Oberyn says. “This is not what I expected.”

“It’s where I stay every time I come down to visit,” Jaime says. “Thought we should talk.”

Oberyn follows him inside. There’s nothing to indicate anyone lives in this place. “I get it,” he says. “She does have very nosy roommates.”

“No, shithead, it just keeps me from being accosted in the hotel lobby from people wanting autographs,” Jaime says. He sneers. “Seriously? This is how it’s going to go?”

Oberyn shrugs. “I’m not the one setting the tone here, bro.”

Jaime sighs, visibly reining in his temper. “Okay, dude, let’s start from the beginning.”

“Oh goodie, I love exposition,” Oberyn drawls.

“I already want to kill you,” Jaime says.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Oberyn asks.

“No,” Jaime says. His shoulders tighten up. “I’m here because my sister called me in hysterics, begging me to come down and make sure you wouldn’t ruin her life out of spite.”

Oberyn scowls. “I promised her I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, she knows that, but it’s a big gamble,” Jaime says. “C’mon, dude, I know you must be tempted. You have this incredible dirt on your ex-girlfriend, you can get back at both me and her in one go, everyone will be on your side for breaking her heart…”

The only thing Oberyn really gets from that is _ex-girlfriend_. Like it’s such a foregone conclusion.

He grinds his teeth. “Even when I’m vindictive, I’m not that kind of vindictive. She’d have to… like, murder one of my sisters for me to want to ruin her life that badly.”

Jaime reads his eyes for a long moment. “Okay,” he says. “I believe you.”

Oberyn nods. There’s a moment of uncertain silence, because Oberyn’s not really sure why he’s here and Jaime seems to be searching for words.

“It’s also because of her nosy roommates, though,” Oberyn finally says. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“We’re not fucking, oh my god,” Jaime says.

This comes as something of a shock to Oberyn. “You’re not?”

“Not since she met…” Jaime waves loosely.

Oberyn groans. “Oh come on, don’t fucking lie. I’m so sick of Lannisters lying to me.”

Jaime meets his eye steadily. “She cut me off cold after the first time you fucked.” He frowns. “Or – there may have been one time after that. The chronology is confusing.”

“Oh, wow, thanks,” Oberyn deadpans. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“You think this is easier for me?” Jaime says, and for the first time, Oberyn sees flashes of the famous Lannister temper in his eyes. “No, you don’t get to pretend this is fun for me either. I’ve been fucking my sister since we were 15, and –“

“Fifteen?” Oberyn says, incredulous.

“And then suddenly in her senior year of goddamn college, she up and decides she wants to settle down with some shitbag prick just because he –” Jaime fumbles. “Fuck, I don’t even know why! Do you really think I’m _enjoying_ hearing her crying over you?”

“My heart, she bleeds for you,” Oberyn says.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jaime says. He holds his hand out. “Gimme the DVD.”

Oberyn hands it over, eyeing him with wary curiosity.

“I’m trying to tell you, the ball is in your court, buddy,” Jaime says. “If you can move past it, she can. She’ll never fuck me again and she’ll have your fucking babies and be happy and marry you and…” He swallows. Now Oberyn knows what he looked like for the last week – Jaime looks as ill as he’s felt.

“Or?” Oberyn prompts.

“Or you can’t handle it, and I get her back,” Jaime says, and he doesn’t even try to hide the hope in his voice. “You break her heart and she comes back to me.” He runs his tongue over his top row of teeth. Oberyn wonders absently if he picked up the habit from Cersei, or vice versa. “It’s on you.”

Oberyn bites his tongue. “I guess… I need to think about it,” he says. He’s rash, but he’s not _this_ rash.

Jaime nods. “That makes sense,” he says. “That’s… Yeah, okay.” He looks down at the disc in his hands. “I should never have asked her to do it,” he says.

“Probably,” Oberyn agrees.

“Fuck,” Jaime says. “Well, better late than never, I guess,” he says, and starts to bend the disc between his hands.

“No!” Oberyn says, grabbing for it.

A second too late, he regains control of his brain.

Jaime looks up at him, lips curling in a slight smirk. “No?” he says.

Oberyn curses himself. “It’s a masterpiece of modern cinema,” he says loftily. “I just… Don’t you think it would be a waste?”

“I never watched it,” Jaime says.

Oberyn shakes his head. It’s a shame, but then he realizes, well… Jaime didn’t need to watch it. Jaime was living it, for six years. “It’s good,” he says belatedly. “You should consider a career in porn.”

“Yeah, if my NFL career doesn’t prove financially lucrative enough, I’ll think about it,” Jaime says. “It’s ‘good’?”

Oberyn isn’t sure what Jaime is waiting for. It seems fairly obvious what Oberyn’s feelings on the matter are. “Yes…?”

Jaime looks at him for a long moment. Then he tosses the disc to the side and drags Oberyn into a vicious kiss.

Never let it be said that Oberyn Martell doesn’t adapt well under pressure. He curls one hand around the back of Jaime’s head, yanking him back so Oberyn can bite down his neck, stinging red marks that will take a few days to fade.

“Fuck!” Jaime says, and tears at his shirt.

They get to the bedroom eventually, slamming into every door and wall on the way there, and finally Jaime gets Oberyn naked before shoving him onto his back on the bed. He strips off his boxer briefs before following him down.

“Six fucking months, all she talks about is you,” he snarls, and curls his hand around Oberyn’s cock, jacking it brutally rough.

“Well, I am very good with my mouth,” Oberyn gasps out. He bucks up into Jaime’s fist so hard he nearly throws him off, but Jaime clamps his thighs on either side of Oberyn’s hips and hangs on, leaning in to kiss him again, toothy and sharp.

“Oh, fuck you,” Jaime says. He grinds down against Oberyn’s cock, both of them moaning at the pressure. “You’ve got six fucking years to catch up on if we’re gonna be competing over the orgasms we give her.”

“I am aware, sweetheart, only I think I’m already done,” Oberyn coos, though he knows from that video exactly how sweetly and hard Jaime can make his sister come.

Jaime’s face twists and he shoulders between Oberyn’s legs, shoving them apart. He drops down, biting at Oberyn’s belly, his hips, his thighs.

For a dizzying moment, Oberyn sees Cersei between his legs in the golden hair and green eyes that look back at him. But no, it’s very much Jaime, and his cock is so hard it hurts.

“Exactly what are you planning here, lovely?” he asks, arching up and rubbing his dick against Jaime’s collarbone, smearing pre-come there. “I know you haven’t done this with a man before. Too busy fucking your sister for six years.” He punctuates this with a particularly hard thrust between those sculpted pectorals.

“I’m a quick study,” Jaime growls, and he reaches between Oberyn’s legs, until Oberyn clamps his knees together, trapping his wrist.

“There is no goddamn way you’re fucking me without lube,” he says, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Not a fucking chance.”

Jaime sulks, and it looks uncannily like his sister’s pout. “It’s in the car.”

“Then go _get_ it,” Oberyn says, planting his foot on Jaime’s shoulder and shoving.

Jaime pulls on a pair of sweatpants and goes, not looking particularly thrilled about it. Too fucking bad.

Oberyn rests his arm over his face, gathering his thoughts. What is he doing here? He’s going to let Jaime Lannister fuck him? This is surreal. At least Jaime is a good fuck, which he knows very well from that video.

That fucking video.

That _fucking_ video, Jaime touching Cersei like he owns her, making love to her. The way she cried out for him. The way Jaime dares act like Oberyn has ever been any threat to him – what a joke. No one has ever turned Cersei’s head away from her brother.

Jaime is her sun, and Oberyn is a passing cloud. Or maybe the moon – a dim reflection of the light emanating from the illustrious Jaime fucking Lannister.

The old anger surges back, flooding him, and it’s cleansing, and it’s _burning_.

He hears Jaime come back in and kneel at the edge of the bed. “So,” Jaime says, and Oberyn strikes.

He whips out, and he may not have as much muscle as Jaime but he makes it up in speed, twisting over him and manhandling him onto his stomach before he can react.

“The fuck?” Jaime snarls, fighting back.

“No, Jaime Lannister, for once in your life, you will behave,” Oberyn says, kneeling on his back. “You have had the exquisite pleasure of fucking your sister for six years, and owned her heart for immeasurably longer. And I have had the pleasure of watching. I have seen the love she holds for you that cannot be rivaled. So now I say I will have your ass as payment, and there is nothing you can do or say that will keep me from it.” He smacks Jaime’s ass with an open hand, making him flinch and yelp. “Is that understood?”

Jaime shifts, shoulders rolling uncomfortably. Then, “Yes,” he rumbles.

It feels good.

Oberyn takes his time opening him up, until he’s begging and sweating and clawing at the sheets, fucking his hips down into the mattress, shameless with need. He smacks Jaime’s ass again for good measure. Then he rolls on the condom and presses in.

Jaime’s ass is sweet and tight, but it does nothing to keep the inferno roaring in Oberyn’s chest at bay. He wants more, he wants to claim him, he wants Jaime to know that Oberyn’s cock is a brand that cannot be forgotten, not even after he and Cersei fuck off to their perfect life in King’s Landing and leave him far behind.

“Oberyn,” Jaime says, sweat winding down his neck and shoulder. “Oberyn!”

“I like that. It sounds very sweet coming from you,” Oberyn says. He bites over Jaime’s shoulders, where no one would mistake a girl leaving the same marks. Presses his thumbs deep into the dimples on either side of his spine and fucks him so hard he’ll feel it for days.

Jaime doesn’t seem to mind. He loves it, craves it, if the way he’s rocking back against Oberyn’s thrusts is any indication, moaning steadily and shuddering when Oberyn angles just right to stroke over his prostate.

Jaime reaches for his cock, but Oberyn grabs his wrist. “No,” he says. “You’re going to come on my cock without being touched.”

“You’re fucking mental, man,” Jaime gasps, but he grabs the pillow with both hands, shouting wordlessly into it when Oberyn slams into him next.

True to his word, Oberyn fucks the orgasm out of Jaime until he’s a trembling mess, trails of sticky come painting his chest and the sheets, voice hoarse from how loud he was calling Oberyn’s name.

He thinks about fucking him through it and forcing another one while Jaime is oversensitive and gasping from it, but no, he can’t last that long. Won’t last much longer at all – Jaime’s ass is nursing his cock like a slick, gloved fist.

Even if Jaime owns Cersei, heart and body and soul, Oberyn will always have this first.

His orgasm is powerful and long and it wrecks him, leaving him slumped over Jaime, dropping them both onto the mattress. And for the first time in a week, he feels no anger at all.

 

Oberyn pours them both scotch over ice in the kitchenette while Jaime glares balefully at him from the couch, back in those sweatpants, Oberyn wearing boxer briefs and a smug smile.

“Shut up,” Jaime says, accepting the glass. “Fuck, so what, then? We’ve worked out our differences? Good for us?”

“I’m not sure anything’s changed, but the orgasms were nice,” Oberyn muses. He raises his glass to Jaime, eyebrow arched sardonically.

Jaime sighs. “Look. There are things that you can give her that I’ll never be able to. Marriage. Kids. A life.” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “That’s… relevant.”

“Ah. So she will settle for me as a lesser choice, wishing all the while that she could have you instead.” Oberyn sips his scotch. “This, perhaps, is a smaller measure of comfort than you might think.”

“Believe me, I’m not trying to comfort you,” Jaime growls. “But the fact that you make her happy is the only thing keeping me from beating the shit out of you right now.”

“I doubt it’s the only thing,” Oberyn says, looking down at the way Jaime sits stiffly on the couch, not quite at ease.

“Aagh, you are such a shithead,” Jaime says. “Does she like that about you?”

Despite himself, Oberyn grins.

“She does, you know,” Jaime says softly. “Like you. A lot.”

Oberyn’s grin fades. He looks down at his drink, swirling the amber liquid and making the ice clink against the glass.

“She’s never cut me off before, ever,” Jaime says. “Not for Baratheon, or Targaryen… But from day one with you, she knew there was something different.” He grinds his teeth. “And saying that is fucking hard for me, so you better fucking believe I’m not bullshitting you.”

“I do believe you,” Oberyn says. “I’m just not sure it matters.”

 

The drive back is largely silent. Jaime keeps shifting in his seat, and every time he does it sends a spike of vicious pleasure dancing down Oberyn’s spine.

But like he said, nothing’s changed. Cersei is still Jaime’s girl, forever, and Oberyn refuses to be her second choice and knock her up in some sham of a marriage while she pines for Jaime from afar.

“You could get her pregnant, you know,” Oberyn says.

Jaime looks over, open-mouthed. “Uh, what?”

“You could knock her up,” Oberyn says. “Have her tell the kids their father was some blond asshole who died in war, or something. If it’s so important to her.”

“Dude, incest,” Jaime says.

“Dude, it just means your negative recessive traits would be more likely to pass onto them, not that they’d automatically be born with twelve toes,” Oberyn says, rolling his eyes.

Jaime shifts again, this time from a different sort of discomfort. “But like, if they ever decided to trace their DNA…”

“Is that something obscenely rich people do?” Oberyn asks, fascinated.

“No,” Jaime says. “Whatever, shut up. I don’t _want_ to knock her up. I don’t want kids, that’s her thing. I’d rather be a weird, rich, distant uncle.”

“Even for her children?” Oberyn asks. “You could look at the children she bore another man and forgive yourself for letting her go?”

Jaime looks away. “I think so, yeah,” he says. “I love Cersei, but I’ve never forgotten that she’s my sister. The sex is phenomenal, but I’ve never thought we had a future together.”

For the first time, Oberyn pities him. A little. Very little.

“Hm,” he says.

Jaime sighs, cutting the engine as they pull up outside Oberyn’s house. “I’ve given you this false impression that she wants you as some sort of socially acceptable baby dispenser, and that’s not true. She likes you, dude. You’re…”

“I know,” Oberyn says, jaw clenched. “Yes, she cares. But even if you could forgive it, I couldn’t. I won’t let her look at our dark-haired children and wish they were blond and green-eyed, and I won’t let her look at me and want…” He gestures to Jaime.

“But she doesn’t,” Jaime says, insistently. “Six months, man, and all she talks about is you.”

Oberyn takes a deep breath and looks away.

 

When he walks into the house, Nym and Arianne and Tyene cut off their whispering and look up at him, mouths open. “Uh,” Nymeria says. “We thought you were in there.” She points at his closed bedroom door.

“Weird night,” Oberyn says. Part of him wants to be alone, but they’re looking up at him like kicked puppies, so he sighs and lies across the couch, head pillowed on Ari’s thighs and feet across Tyene’s lap. “Weird week.”

“Are you ever gonna tell us what’s going on with you?” Nym asks, coming to sit by the couch, resting her head on his belly.

He hesitates. “Probably not,” he admits, because he promised Cersei, and even if he hadn’t… He couldn’t do that to her. Never. As much as he trusts his sisters, the only way to keep it a guaranteed secret is to _keep_ that secret.

Tyene sighs. “Okay. Do you want to talk about something else?”

“Not really,” he says.

“Do you want to take a vacation and go home this weekend and let Elia pet you and feed you mangoes?” Arianne asks.

And oh, fuck, he does, so abruptly homesick it crashes over him like a wave. “Yeah,” he says emphatically. “Definitely.”

“Okay,” Tyene says, smiling. “Do you want to watch terrible action movies with us now?”

“Yeah,” he says, and smiles back.

 

Jaime’s gone by the next morning, which Oberyn only knows because he sees Cersei alone in the Sci Li, and he’s very sure they would be attached at the hip if Jaime were still in town.

“She looks good,” Tyene says, and Arianne gives a sympathetic murmur.

He did tell his sisters that he and Cersei broke up, but that it was mutual, and extracted a promise from each of them not to be evil bitches to her.

He needn’t have worried, apparently, because they’re looking at her with open pity across the atrium.

That’s the part that confuses him, actually. “She looks fantastic,” he says. “So, uh, why are you acting like somebody has died?”

“Because that’s the kind of girl Cersei is,” Arianne says, rolling her eyes. “The more she hurts, the better she’s going to look on the outside. It’s the only way she knows how to react to heartbreak.”

“Remember how hot Nym looked at her mother’s funeral?” Tyene asks.

Oberyn hums, looking at Cersei. She’s looking back at him, and their eyes meet.

Mutual. What a strange word. Like they’re bound together in this, living each other’s agony.

Well, it’s not inaccurate.

 

He does go home over the next weekend, which is lovely. Elia is sympathetic but she doesn’t ask anything, and she keeps him busy enough watching the little girls that he doesn’t have time to dwell, much.

Not until nighttime, when he watches the video alone in the dark, earbuds in, even though he knows it so well he can replay it in his mind just as well without the visual.

Somehow, though, no matter how many times he watches it, he never stops getting hard, or becomes able to resist the need to jerk off until his cock is chafed and sore.

 

Oberyn gets back to school feeling refreshed. He’s still fucking nuts for Cersei, fucking nuts in general, but suddenly there’s a real possibility it doesn’t always have to be that way. Maybe he’ll get over her.

Then he opens his bedroom door and finds Cersei inside, her hair elaborately braided in a coil around her head, wearing a large shirt of his belted tight around her waist over leggings, and no, that was never going to happen.

“Cersei,” he says, surprised, dropping his backpack to the ground.

She spins. “Oh, fuck. Your sisters said you wouldn’t be back until later, and I was just looking for something, so…” She moves to tuck her hair behind her ear, seeming to forget it’s not loose. “I can go.”

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

Cersei looks up, biting her lip.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s…” He looks down at his bag.

“I trust you, I do,” she says, moving towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders – for his reassurance or her own, he’s not sure. “But I just, I need to take it back, it’s been driving me crazy… You understand?”

“I do,” Oberyn says, even though he does not want to give it back. He moves to reach down to his bag, but she doesn’t release his shoulders, and he straightens back up slowly. “Cersei…”

At the sound of her name, she seems to crumple inside, fingers now grasping at his collar, lower lip trembling.

“Oberyn,” she whispers.

He gathers her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. She folds into him, face buried in his chest, shaking.

“I don’t want you to have to choose,” Oberyn murmurs into her hair.

“Yes, you do,” she says, voice flat. “You’re just afraid to ask because you think I would choose him.”

This woman will be the death of him.

“Yeah,” he says, laughing a little. “I guess.”

Cersei huffs a little and tucks herself even tighter against him, and he holds her close. Is this how Jaime feels when he’s inside of her, he wonders? Like they’ve become one being?

Tyene opens her bedroom door and then sees them there. Her eyes go wide, and she shuts the door quickly, leaving them alone.

Oberyn is already dreading the moment he has to let go.

 

He walks her home, passing a cigarette back and forth between them. He doesn’t touch her again, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop once he started.

At her door, Cersei pauses. “Give me back the DVD when you’re ready,” she says, hand on the door handle, looking over her shoulder at him.

At his nod, she steps inside.

He gets it, he thinks. Like Jaime said, the ball is in his court. Oberyn has to give her the DVD when he makes his decision – whether he’ll stay with her, knowing even what he does, or whether he’ll leave her for Jaime to claim in what seems to be such a foregone conclusion.

It’s a symbol, duh. If he slipped it in an envelope into her mailbox, they would never speak another word to each other, he’s sure of it.

If he keeps it forever, they might never speak another word also. If he can’t make a decision, if he stays suspended in this state of angst and uncertainty. And she’ll go back to Jaime anyway.

No, there’s only one way to take her back, if he brings her the DVD in person and presses it to her hand, sealing it with a kiss.

He wonders if Jaime told her that they fucked. Probably – as codependent as they are, he imagines there’s not a lot they don’t tell each other.

It used to be a running joke, but now it’s just sad and sick and true.

 

That night, Elia calls him. Oberyn hits the spacebar and answers, trying not to sound guilty. Elia has an uncanny knack for reading his voice, and he doesn’t want to test the limits of this ability.

“Hey,” he says.

“I heard she already ruined all my hard work,” she says, no preamble.

He sighs. “Sort of,” he says. “But not in the way you’re thinking.” If anything, Oberyn is the one weighing himself down. Cersei is trying to drag him out, but he’s the one digging in his heels, kicking and screaming as she and Jaime try to propel him forward.

“Oberyn,” she says, and oh fuck, it’s going to be a real conversation. At least Tyene and Nym ask if he wants to talk. Elia knows him better than that. “This isn’t you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you want her?” she asks.

Fuck if he knows. “I…”

“Because you’re a fighter, I know you,” she says. “And if you want her, you’re going to fight for her.”

“I don’t believe in fighting losing battles,” he mutters.

“Have you ever lost a battle?” Elia says, feigning surprise. “If so, I didn’t realize.”

He clenches his jaw.

“If you don’t want her, stop dragging this out,” she says. “You need to make a decision, dear brother.”

“I know,” he says. “I will.”

“Soon.”

“Soon,” Oberyn promises.

 

Oberyn kind of sleepwalks his way through class for the next three days, eating at the dining halls with his sisters and exhausting himself sparring with Arthur Dayne at the gym when they both have the time. But always in the back of his mind…

He looks up from his noodles when he hears Cersei’s name. “What?” he says.

“Oh, there he is,” Tyene teases, throwing a grape at him.

“Cersei was brutal in class today,” Nymeria said. “Told a guy that his opinion was so stupid that he was stupid for having it.”

He smiles.

“That’s our Cersei,” Arianne sighs. “If she doesn’t have an opinion…”

“She’s dead,” Nymeria says, and they all laugh.

Oberyn thinks about this.

 

He picks the lock to Cersei’s house late that evening, carefully sliding it shut behind him and peering around the corner into the living room. The three girls are doing homework across the various couches, with some cooking show playing in the background.

Oberyn looks to the spot on the couch beside Cersei and wonders who would fit into it better, him or Jaime? Stupid thought. He ignores it.

Melara is the only one who is facing towards him, and as luck would have it, she takes that moment to go to the kitchen and pour herself another glass of wine, so Oberyn takes the opportunity and pads past them, silent on the balls of his feet.

He sits on Cersei’s bed and texts her, and a minute later, he hears her saying something to the girls, and then she comes in and shuts the door behind her.

“You’re so weird,” she says quietly, shaking her head.

“I did not come here to talk to them,” he says.

She reaches for him, and he catches her hands and pulls her over him, moving back until he’s stretched out across her bed with her strewn over him like a cat. He pets her hair.

“So…” she says.

“So I have heard from my sister that I should fight for you,” Oberyn says. “And have heard from Jaime that you want me to. But I have heard nothing from you.” He tips her face up with two fingers under her chin. “So tell me, Cersei, woman of endless opinions… What do you want?”

She glares at him. She hates being vulnerable, his little lioness, though it’s a fetching look on her. “You know what I want,” she says.

“I do not,” he says.

“You do,” she says, baring her teeth. “I chose you, you know that, Jaime said he told you…”

“Yes, that you cannot kiss him in public and look radiant in white for him. No _you may now kiss your sister_ for the golden Lannister twins,” Oberyn says.

“I had Jaime for six years,” Cersei says quietly. “I know what I am sacrificing.”

“Sacrificing, yes,” Oberyn says, pushing at her shoulder until she sits up. “Sacrificing what you want and settling for what you’ll take.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” she says.

“And the other?” Oberyn says.

She huffs. “If that’s all that mattered to me, I would have stayed with Baratheon, fucking Jaime on the side. Or Targaryen, or any of them. He’s already my dirty secret, there’s nothing keeping me from having both of you, with you none the wiser.”

“And why didn’t you?” Oberyn says.

“Because – that’s my point, you imbecile, because that’s not what I want, because…” She hesitates.

“Say it,” he says, sitting up, staring at her, stone-faced. “You said it to him in that video, now say it to me –and hey, if you feel like it, pretend to mean it.”

Cersei slaps him across the face. “Because I love you, you sick bastard! Does that change anything? Does that _fix_ anything?” It’s half sarcastic, half hopeful.

“No,” he says, and she wilts.

Melara opens the door. “Cersei? Are you - _you_.” She pins Oberyn with a frosty glare, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Go,” Oberyn says. “I do not have the patience to talk to you right now.”

“You can’t –”

“ _Go_ ,” he says.

Something in his eyes makes her draw away, frightened, and Cersei turns to her. “It’s fine, Mel,” she says. “We’re just talking.”

Melara reluctantly leaves, though Oberyn is willing to bet she’ll be listening through the door.

Cersei turns back to him. “So what, then? Because I’ve ever been in love with another man, I’m used up and not worth being with?”

“Because you were in love with him, because you never stopped loving him,” Oberyn says.

She brushes him off impatiently. “So are you going to try and make this work, or aren’t you? I’m tired of being jerked around, I need an answer.”

He clenches his jaw.

“Am I worth fighting for?” she says, then shoves his shoulder. “No, you know what, are _you_ worth fighting for, or have you already given up? You’re no different from any other opponent Jaime’s ever had, on or off the field. You think he’s playing head games and that means he’s already won.”

“Don’t try to manipulate me, Cersei,” he growls.

“I’m not!” she says, which is bullshit. She hits him again. “I just said ‘I love you’ and you didn’t even care – you didn’t even _notice_ , I feel like I’m fighting the current and you’re not even trying! And you’re pretending like I’ve rejected you when I have no idea how you feel about anything, and –”

Oberyn surges forward, pinning her to the bed under his weight. “I love you,” he snarls, “you fucking bitch, I love you, of course I love you, I wouldn’t be putting up with any of this shit if I didn’t.” He kisses her, furious and rough and biting, shoulders her legs apart and grasps at her shirt like he wants to tear it off.

She touches his face. “I love you,” she whispers. “I love you.”

He chokes, pressing his face to the crook of her neck, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Part of him wants to take her apart like Jaime did in the video, tease at her with hands and tongue until she’s whimpering, dripping for him. But he can’t bear to wait, every part of him clamoring to be inside her.

And she needs him too, clutching for him, shoving at his pants and growling when it takes more than a second to pull them off. “Please,” she gasps out, “just – please, fuck me, I need you.”

“I’ll get –” he said, reaching for his backpack, but she growls and yanks him back in, both legs around his waist.

“Fuck that,” she said. “You’ve been tested, I’ve been tested, get in me.” When he stares at her, mouth open, she drags him in with her legs. “God dammit, Ober- _ohhh_ …”

He groans with her as he sinks inside her, struck incoherent with awe at the sensation. This is what Jaime felt every time, he thinks. Lucky bitch.

He fucks her slowly, until she starts to curse at him, and then he fucks her faster, until she starts to beg. And then he fucks her desperately, short feverish thrusts that have her cunt fluttering around his cock, her fingernails dragging over his back, his name falling from her lips over and over and over…

She cries out for him as he fucks her, as he kisses her, as he clutches her close and leaves bruises on her hips from how tight he holds her to him. And she cries out for him when she comes, flushed and beautiful and gasping for him.

He doesn’t know how to ask for it, but somehow she knows what he needs, and she curls her hands around his jaw and presses open-mouthed kisses to his lips and whispers it – “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours…”

And he comes, breathing her name and loving her so much it consumes him.

 

Later, there comes a knock on the door. “Done _talking_ , you assholes?” Melara asks.

Cersei purrs as Oberyn traces her breasts and belly with his fingertips, plastered against her back and drawing lazy kisses over her shoulders. “For now,” she says, pulling the sheet over them.

“You’re both the worst,” Melara says, opening the door and making a judgey face at them.

Oberyn ignores her.

“We’re going to fourth meal, just making sure you guys don’t get pissy for not being invited,” Melara says.

“Not at all,” Oberyn says. “My apologies for not extending the same courtesy to you.”

Melara glares and flips him off. “Wow, Cersei, thanks so much for bringing this shithead back into our lives. I’ve really missed him these last few weeks.”

Oberyn grins. “The feeling is mutual, darling.”

Cersei smacks lightly at him, whimpers a little when he just teases at her folds with his fingertips, and smacks him again, harder.

“God,” Melara says, slamming the door shut and stomping off.

“I hate that bitch,” Oberyn says. He bites at her shoulder.

“That feeling is definitely mutual,” Cersei says. She turns her head, smiling at him. “You’re in a good mood.”

He sighs and rests his chin on her upper arm, looking down at her face. “I am not a naturally indecisive man. Weighing that decision heavily made me –”

“Cranky,” she says.

He wrinkles his nose. He’ll allow it, he supposes. “Yes, cranky. But now I’ve made the decision, I’m going back to my normal sunny self, and fuck Jaime Lannister if he thinks he can take that away from me.”

Cersei rolls her eyes. “Yes, Jaime is so devious and cunning, I’m sure he’ll be crushed that his evil plots have been thwarted.”

“Ah, well, he’ll have to get used to the disappointment.” Oberyn kisses her shoulder. “I’m not letting you go, Cersei.”

Cersei shivers and smiles, rolling over to face him. She kisses at the line of his jaw. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to get away.”

 

Cersei folds back into his life like she never left, and his sisters welcome her with open arms. Oberyn doesn’t blame them – if he were them, he would be sick of himself too. Fuck, he was sick of himself.

They’re closer than ever. They eat together, do their homework together, go to the gym together. Cersei practically moves into his bedroom, taking over the bathroom bottle by bottle, her clothes gradually overwhelming his in his closet. He doesn’t care.

They fuck constantly, every chance they get. Oberyn has six years of orgasms to catch up on and he’s going to do it in one semester if he has his way, and Cersei doesn’t seem to mind the attempt.

She doesn’t go to King’s Landing over the bye week.

He doesn’t realize this until days after, when a Google alert pops up on her phone for Jaime’s tag and she swipes it aside without looking. He Googles Jaime later, finds some quotes from an unnamed teammate – _Yeah, [Lannister] is having some family issues, but he’s a professional, he wouldn’t let that affect him on the field_ and _He’s been kind of hyper-focused recently, always the first one in the weight room when we come in and the last one to leave_.

She hasn’t been answering Jaime’s phone calls.

He doesn’t realize this until weeks in, when Jaime shows up at his house and slams him into the wall, growling curses at him.

Tyene gives a little shriek, looking over from the loveseat, and Oberyn winces and glances at his bedroom door, but Cersei doesn’t emerge. With any luck, she’s still asleep.

Then he looks back at Jaime, grinning a little. His feet are dangling off the floor from the grip Jaime has on his collar. It’s very impressive.

“Hello,” he says.

“Let’s talk,” Jaime says.

“Tyene, darling, could you give us some privacy?” Oberyn says, and Tyene gathers her books and vanishes him her room with a wide-eyed look at them.

Jaime slams the door shut behind him, dropping Oberyn to the ground – again, Oberyn shoots a wary glance at his bedroom door.

“You really should give me more warning if you’re going to drop in like this,” Oberyn says. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Jaime cages him against the wall, leaning in close. “I gave her up,” he hisses. “I haven’t said anything, I’m standing back and letting you have her, so what the fuck are you up to, Martell?”

Oberyn raises one eyebrow. “I… Honestly, I’d go along with it just to fuck with your head, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. You sure you don’t want something to drink?”

Jaime grabs Oberyn’s shirt and twists, knuckles rubbing against his chest. “She hasn’t answered my calls in weeks. She bails on visits, texts back these meaningless monosyllables about being busy, and ignores my messages. So tell me, you sick fuck, what the fuck are you trying to do here?”

Oberyn pries away his wrist. “Believe me when I tell you, as delicious as I find this, I had nothing to do with it.”

Jaime grudgingly pulls away. “Then she’s doing it because she thinks it’ll help things smooth out between you. Do whatever it takes to make things work out.”

“How thoughtful that girl is,” Oberyn says. “Well, even if you don’t want a drink, I believe I’ll have one.”

Jaime leans against the table, watching him move around, head hanging. “She’s my sister, she’s my best friend. She’s everything. You know what it’s like to have that all taken away at once?” He gestures vaguely. “I can give up the sex if that’s what she wants from me. But I can’t lose her.”

“This is very moving,” Oberyn says. “I’m moved.”

“God dammit,” Jaime snarls, and punches the table.

Oberyn holds his breath, listening.

And a few seconds later, Cersei emerges, makeup smudged, hair tangled, the loveliest woman on the entire planet. “Oberyn?” she says, then, mouth open, “ _Jaime_?”

“Should have guessed you’d be here,” Jaime says, and his eyes soften at the sight of her even while his mouth forms a tight line.

She starts forward a little, drawn to him, magnetic. Then she stills herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Cersei,” Oberyn says, delighting in the way her eyes go soft and tender at the sound of her name on his lips. Jaime notices, judging by the way he frowns. “I would never wish to be the cause of strife between two such close, affectionate siblings. Please, do not go to any trouble for my sake.”

Jaime frowns deeper, but Cersei reads Oberyn’s face closely and then nods. He turns away to the window, drinking his coffee and watching people pass by.

Behind him, he hears Cersei and Jaime hugging, the way Jaime buries his face in her hair and inhales like a man bereft of air.

But when he turns back, Cersei is there, fitting herself into his arms and tipping her face up to kiss him. Oberyn crushes her to his chest and kisses her deep, appreciating the gesture even if it’s not entirely necessary. But he’ll never turn her down, not when she presses against him so wantonly.

When he looks up, still locked in her kiss, Jaime’s eyes are stormy.

 

Oberyn makes his excuses, though, letting Cersei and Jaime leave together without making any effort to tag along. They’re more than siblings, even with sex removed from the equation. He would forever resent anyone who kept him from seeing his own sisters, even if that person hadn’t asked outright.

When Cersei returns late that night, she’s smiling, something relaxed in her that he hadn’t realized was locked up tight.

And the blowjob she thanks him with, well.

No complaints there.

 

Things aren’t perfect, but they are pretty fucking good. Cersei is walking on air now that her boys are getting along – she has Oberyn and she has Jaime, and those are the only two things she needs in the entire world. Well, that and wealth, beauty, and power, but those have never been under any threat.

And when Cersei’s in a good mood, Oberyn’s life runs much smoother. Everybody wins.

Except Jaime.

He’s pacified, but he’s hardly tamed. Oberyn sees the way he watches when they’re all together, and it’s simultaneously hungry and murderous, barely even trying to hide the way he would destroy Oberyn if he could get away with it, and if Cersei would forgive him for it.

He wants Cersei. He wants her desperately, possessively, with every fiber of his being.

And he hates Oberyn, as much as Oberyn once hated him. He hates the way Oberyn plays with her hair, the way he murmurs things in her ear that make her laugh, the way he will settle a heavy hand around her waist and she’ll immediately adjust to it, not noticing the weight.

Every time, it makes him glare, and Oberyn smirk, and Cersei vapidly pretend not to notice any of the tension.

It’s delicious, but Oberyn can think of a few things that would delight him even more.

 

They’re in King’s Landing, the three of them drinking wine and talking in Jaime’s enormous living room. Cersei has decided that the only way she can visit Jaime without guilt is if Oberyn comes with her, and although she is the only person who cares about the imaginary tight rope she’s forcing herself to walk, he doesn’t really mind. It’s amusing, watching Jaime froth impotently.

But he puts up with it, for Cersei. He loves her that much, dear boy.

Oberyn lets himself – and the other two – get wine-drunk and warm before he makes his move. “Darling girl, would you mind terribly picking out the next bottle? I’m afraid I only have a real knowledge of reds.”

Cersei shoots him a searching look, but nods, kissing him briefly before going into the kitchen.

Oberyn sprawls back and watches Jaime watch her leave. “Poor boy,” he says. “You want her so much.”

“Stop talking, Martell,” Jaime says, and his voice is low but there is real menace in it.

Oberyn ignores him, of course. “It’s such a pity, to lose such a ravishing partner after having her to yourself for so long. And she’s so delightfully needy in bed, of course you miss her. It’s hard to pass up on a girl who takes cock like –”

Jaime snarls and pushes to his feet.

Cersei walks back in. “What are you talking about?” she says slowly, seeing the thunder in Jaime’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Jaime growls.

“You,” Oberyn says. “How lovely you are.”

Cersei looks like she doesn’t know whether to be pleased.

“How much Jaime loves you,” Oberyn says, and he kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “The way he thinks only of you when he has his hand on his cock.”

“Oberyn!” Cersei says, as Jaime roars, “Martell!”

Oberyn fishes the DVD from his pocket and waves it at them. “I’ve been thinking about this video, you know. Why it bothers me so much.”

Cersei covers her face with her hands, despair in the lines of her shoulders.

“It’s because I’m not in it,” Oberyn says, and tosses it down in front of Jaime on the floor. “I’m not there, listening to your sister cry out for you. Isn’t that a pity? Like you weren’t there when I fucked her in your shower this morning. And she wasn’t there when I made you beg on your knees for me, Lannister.”

“What…?” Cersei whispers.

“Ah, so you did not tell her?” Oberyn says, raising his eyebrows at Jaime, who flushes and looks down. His hands are clenched into tight fists. “I am surprised, although perhaps I should not be. After all, I did not tell her either.”

Cersei looks at Jaime, but Oberyn is sure she’s talking to him when she asks, “When?”

“When you begged him to come down to convince me not to tell anyone about what I had seen,” Oberyn says. “He was… quite persuasive.”

“What are you getting at?” Jaime says, deadly soft.

“What does it seem like I am getting at?” Oberyn asks, smiling.

Oberyn can see Cersei looking back and forth between them out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t look away from Jaime, coiled up tight as a cornered jungle cat.

“I know what you’re doing,” Jaime says. “You’re dangling her in front of me as a joke – you want to get back at me for that, and now you’re punishing me.” He gestures sharply down at the disc on the floor.

“If I tried something like that in front of your lioness sister, I could expect to get my cock bit off,” Oberyn says, and Cersei gives a little approving laugh.

“So you’re… sharing?” Jaime says, and he’s so perplexed, it’s adorable. “What the fuck changed?”

“Nothing the fuck changed,” Oberyn says. He shrugs. “I just came to terms with a few things.”

“And what’s that?” Jaime asks.

“One,” Oberyn says, sipping his wine, “there is no point in being threatened by you two having sex, considering you are already as close in mind and heart and soul as it is possible for two people to be. Sex is merely the physical manifestation of the closeness that I could never come between, nor want to.”

Jaime smiles a little.

“And two, there isn’t a competition between us, because I’ve already won,” Oberyn says.

Jaime’s smile fades.

“And three,” Cersei says, “you love that video.”

Oberyn inclines his head slowly. Such a smart girl.

“The idea of the two of us fucking turns you on like nothing ever has before,” Cersei murmurs. “The only thing missing was you.”

Finally, he looks away from Jaime to smile at her. “So you see.”

“So I see,” she says.

 

The twins _take him apart_.

Cersei leads them like the boss bitch she is, directing Jaime as he takes Oberyn’s cock into his mouth, only letting Oberyn taste her once he begs for it. She rides his face and tugs his hair every time he gets so distracted by Jaime’s mouth that he forgets to use his tongue.

Then she opens Oberyn up while Jaime rubs all over her from behind, kissing at her neck, touching her breasts, thrusting his cock into the crease of her ass, needy and desperate and not hiding it. This time Oberyn gets to tug her hair whenever she pauses for too long, her fingers stilling as she moans for her brother’s touch, squirming back against him as he slides his fingers between her folds and teases her clit.

Then Jaime fucks him.

Jaime fucks him and the world melts away into white hot bliss, that thick cock splitting him open, those strong hands on his hips. Cersei mouths sloppily against his open lips, swallowing his shameless groans with her mouth. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t – he can’t –

And then Cersei sinks down over his cock, and the world snaps back into focus, only more than ever before. Jaime is huge and hot in his ass and she’s tight and slick around him. The pair of them are golden and gorgeous, and the way they smile is _predatory_ , working over him in perfect rhythm, Jaime shoving in just as she rocks down.

Each thrust punches the breath from his lungs, and he’s sure he’s making all manners of embarrassing noises, but what the fuck does he care, this is perfect, this is _perfect_ – “You’re perfect,” he gasps, “both of you, fuck, you’re –”

“Everything,” Jaime says, in that deep rumbling growl of his.

“Everything,” Cersei agrees, melodic and sweet and _vicious_.

_“Mine,_ ” he snarls, and comes, so hard he blacks out for a second.

 

When he comes down from that rather incredible peak, he opens his eyes and they’re fucking, Cersei on her arms and knees, like Jaime just pulled her back off Oberyn’s cock and onto his.

He stretches, grinning as he watches.

Cersei grins back, but then her eyelashes flutter and she drops her head, groaning. Jaime bites at her the top of her spine. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and fucks her until she gasps from it. “Beautiful, sweet sister, you – I love you, I love you…”

“I love you,” she moans, covering his hand with hers on her hip, weaving their fingers together. “I love you!”

Oberyn tucks his hands behind his head. It wouldn’t be physically possible for his cock to harden this fast, but my, it’s making a valiant effort.

Watching Jaime fuck is an experience. He makes it an art form, all fluidity and grace until suddenly it isn’t anymore, it’s savage, hard and brutal, and Cersei whimpers like she can’t hold herself together anymore.

Oberyn watches, feeling simultaneously sated and needier than ever before, captivated by the sight of these golden twins finding themselves in each other. They’re so very much in love, these two, obsessed with each other. It would take an incredible man to turn Cersei’s head from her brother, someone just as gorgeous and brilliant and feral, someone who can take what they dish out and feed it back to them.

He uncoils languidly, kneeling and stroking Cersei’s hair, and she quivers and works her hips back against Jaime’s cock, but all the while pushing back into Oberyn’s hand. Sweet girl.

He kisses her, and she comes, crying out against his lips. Jaime gives a grunt that makes Oberyn smile – he knows exactly what it feels like when Cersei tightens around his cock like that, an incomparable clutch like a slick gloved fist.

Then, with Cersei collapsed onto her arms and whimpering, Oberyn tips his head up and kisses Jaime, and he comes, giving a choked sobbing sound as he does, fucking into Cersei so desperately only his grasping hands keep her from going sliding across the mattress.

“This is a remarkable talent I have,” Oberyn remarks to the panting piles of fucked-out Lannisters. “I’ll be sure to only use it for good.”

 

Cersei lounges in Jaime’s lap like a pleased cat, warm and clean and pampered after the bath in Jaime’s enormous tub that ended with Jaime getting fucked over the edge, knuckles going as white as the porcelain he was gripping, water sloshing all over the marble floor.

Oberyn doesn’t know that he’s ever been so well-fucked, but these twins… Lions, shit, these two are _demons_.

Jaime’s smirking at Oberyn because he’s got Cersei in his lap, but Oberyn is more than happy to watch them from across the room, basking in his good fortune.  Why he ever held any anxiety about this, he isn’t sure. Instead of one gorgeous, golden hellcat in his bed, he has a matched set. And yes, she loves Jaime madly, but Jaime isn’t the one who she’ll be standing at the altar with in a few years time.

Win-win-motherfucking win.

“You are so smug,” Cersei murmurs to Oberyn, and Jaime gives a hum of agreement, sifting her damp sheet of hair through his fingers.

“Can you blame me?” Oberyn says, finishing off his abandoned glass of wine. “I was thinking, actually…”

“Yes?” Cersei prompts. Jaime looks at him suspiciously.

“So mistrusting!” Oberyn says to Jaime. “You’ll learn, sweet boy. Your sister can tell you, I’m very reliable.”

“You can count on him to be a shithead,” Cersei agrees.

“You were thinking…?” Jaime says.

“How much would a high-end, top of the line video camera cost?” Oberyn asks.

Jaime groans. Cersei looks thoughtful. “We should find out,” she says.

He stands up, stretching, and revels in the way they both watch him like he’s a living god – if gods wore sweatpants a few sizes too big and had hickeys the size of Robert Baratheon’s ego on their necks.

He crosses the room to them. “Any objections, Lannister?” he murmurs, and leans in to kiss Jaime, biting at his lower lip as he draws away.

Jaime grins. “None at all,” he says, and drags Oberyn down for another kiss.


End file.
